The Color of Hope (17 page)

Their late-night conversations from last weekend, the laughter, the sharing—all of it came to mind as they rounded the bend and drew closer to the church. Charley knew her attitude must indeed seem strange. How was he supposed to know she’d been crushing on him? She turned to him finally, feeling a need to say
something
, but her
eyes landed on a group of women in the distance who were staring at her. Her head fell a little, and she tucked her hair behind her ear.

The closer they got, the harder the women stared, until they were mere feet from one another.

“Really, Marcus?” one of them said.

Marcus looked at the speaker, obviously surprised, then turned to Charley. “Excuse me a second.”

He went over to the women, who kept glancing over at her. Charley rummaged in her purse, for what she didn’t know. She felt a mint near the bottom. That would do.

“What did they say?” she asked when he returned.

“Nothing. It’s cool.”

She looked at him. “Marcus, I want to know.”

He hesitated, then, “She said she didn’t know I was the type who paraded blond chicks on my arm.”

Charley’s eyes were wide as they approached the steps to the church. “I wasn’t on your arm. We were, like, two feet apart, just walking.” She looked at him. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘And I didn’t know you were the type who paraded rudeness, so I guess we both learned something.’”

“You didn’t.”’

“I did.” Marcus was clearly bothered by it. “I can’t believe she came at me like that.”

Charley was about to comment, but just then she spied Stephanie and Lindell coming toward them.

“I thought I was seeing things,” Stephanie said when she got closer. “Did you run down here to say hey and run back? Or are you here for real, for real?”

Charley smiled. “I’m here for real, for real.”

“Cool!” Stephanie hugged her.

The same three women walked by, eyeing them.

Stephanie’s hand went to her hip. “What was that about?”

“Cuz, you don’t even want to know,” Marcus said.

Lindell ushered her forward. “More like she doesn’t
need
to know. My wife will go there.”

“I’m trying to get better, though, babe,” Stephanie said.

“I know, babe.”

They entered the vestibule and waited for an usher to show them to their seats. Charley continued to receive stares, even if only brief, but she also got waves when women from Soul Sisters spotted her. She’d gone again last Thursday and enjoyed it even more.

The usher escorted them to the pew, and as they filed in, Charley had Marcus on one side, Stephanie on the other. Travis was standing at the end of a pew talking to people gathered there. But when praise and worship started, he moved to the front row. Charley stood with the rest, recognizing the song as one they’d sung at the joint service.

It started slow, with a solo, but when the other members of the praise team joined in and the tempo kicked up, the church started rocking with praise. Charley clapped her hands, loving the energy, especially from the band. She glanced now and then at the bass player, who was strumming, head bobbing, eyes shut. She was sure if no one else were present, he’d still be in his own praise world.

The next song she didn’t know, but she knew the person who led it—Trina. It was slow as well, and remained so, simply and powerfully affirming love for the Lord. Each song in the set spoke to her, maybe because of the subtle changes happening in her life and heart. Worship was exactly what she needed, a singular focus.

After the last song, they sat for announcements, and Marcus leaned over.

“They’re about to ask visitors to stand,” he said.

She whispered back, “I’m not standing.”

“You should.”

“No. And technically, since I was at the joint service where Pastor Travis was preaching, I’m not a visitor.”

A woman read several announcements—meetings, rehearsals, food and school supply drives—then said, “We want to welcome all first-time visitors to New Jerusalem. We know some of you came to the joint service last weekend and decided to visit again today, and we’re so thankful.” She adjusted her glasses. “But if this is your first time specifically at New Jerusalem Church . . .”

Marcus elbowed her. Charley elbowed back.

“. . . we’d like you to stand and give your name and where you’re from.”

Charley was surprised to see several people rise. When she felt an elbow jab from the other side—Stephanie’s—she came to her feet.

“My name is Darryl Long, and this is my wife, Cathy. We’re from Jacksonville, Alabama, in town visiting family. We bring you greetings from King of Kings Missionary Baptist Church.”

“Welcome, welcome,” the announcer said. She nodded to the next.

“Praise the Lord and good morning.” The woman’s smile was bright. “I’m Bonita Rogers from Newport News, Virginia, here visiting my Auntie May.” She smiled down at the older woman beside her. “Happy to bring greetings from Greater Mount Carmel where the Reverend Timothy T. Raymond is pastor.”

Next was a young man. “I’m not good at this stuff,” he said, “but I heard about y’all in the paper last week.” He shrugged. “Thought I’d come check it out.”

The announcer smiled. “And what’s your name?”

“Oh. Cornell Freeman.”

“We’re glad to have you, Cornell,” she said. “Make sure you stay after and meet Pastor Brooks.”

Two more spoke, then she nodded at Charley, one of three still standing.

She took a breath. “I’m Charley Willoughby. And you can probably see I’m . . . a little different from the others who stood.” She paused. “I’m the only one whose hands are shaking.”

Cornell raised a hand and made it shake. “Mine were too, Sister Charley.”

Charley smiled, and laughter rippled through the congregation.

“Well, Sister Charley . . .” The announcer was smiling. “Tell us where you’re from.”

“From Hope Springs,” Charley said. “Born and raised, but have never been to New Jerusalem. Decided to change that this morning.”

She sat back down, surprised to hear some applause.

“We’re glad to have you too, Sister Charley,” the announcer said. “I encourage you to stay after and meet Pastor Brooks if you don’t know him.”

When the next two had introduced themselves, she said, “We have one more announcement, and that’ll be given from our pastor.”

Travis came up to the podium. In a suit he had a different aura, more serious. Or maybe it wasn’t the suit at all, but the nature of what he was about to say. Everyone seemed to come to attention.

“This might be the first time I’ve stood to give an announcement during this portion of the program,” he said, “but I wanted to be the one to tell you, if you haven’t already heard, that the joint worship services with Calvary Church have ended.”

Enough whispering ensued that it started to get loud.

Travis held up his hands to regain their attention. “That’s the extent of that announcement,” he said, “but I want to take this time to address something else. You all saw the article in the paper last week. It dealt primarily with members of Calvary and their problems with the service. One might conclude that for the most part, New Jerusalem members only quibbled with things
like worship music or preaching styles.” He paused. “But I know better.”

Travis took his time, moving his gaze around the congregation. “I received enough e-mails, office visits, and casual comments about the joint service to give me an indication of an underlying spiritual temperature that exists in this church. And the temperature reading is this: I don’t see a fervor for what Jesus tells us are the two greatest commandments, to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself.”

Charley leaned closer to Marcus. “Does he always hit things hard like this?”

“Pretty much,” Marcus said. “On one hand, he’s known as this hip, cool pastor who can identify with people, and on the other hand, he’s known for speaking straight truth.”

Travis continued, “As the shepherd of this congregation, I would be remiss if I discerned this and did nothing about it. Amen?”

A few “Amens” sounded. Most people were quiet, listening for his next words.

“So I have another announcement,” he said. “Beginning today, we’re starting a sermon series called ‘Love Reigns,’ which we’ll also touch on during Wednesday Bible studies. It’s my prayer that we’ll all grow in giving love for God and love for others its proper place—a preeminent place—in our hearts.”

Travis sat down, and the choir prepared to sing. Charley pondered his words. Loving God and loving others seemed simple in the abstract, but she had a feeling the action element ran deep. And wasn’t easy. Still, something about it registered with her. She’d be coming to New Jerusalem several more weeks at least.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Monday, August 9

S
tephanie arrived at Hope Springs High at seven o’clock in the morning, thirty minutes before classes were to begin. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten up so early for work—maybe never—and she was sure she’d be dog-tired. But an energy coursed through her veins, even an excitement. This assignment was temporary, fluid, and unpredictable. But she was praying that however long it lasted, God would use her.

She walked into the building looking every bit the teacher—professional skirt and jacket, sling-back heeled sandals. But as she watched a sea of students returning from summer, hugging, yelling down the hall, she felt like a student herself—a new one. She needed to learn the ropes of this place or they’d run all over her.

On the way to the main office, she saw Marcus in the hallway meeting and greeting students. She’d almost forgotten he was new to this school too, though he looked comfortable. Students would likely find it easy to relate to an assistant principal under thirty.

When he spied her, he held up a finger for her to wait. A couple of minutes later—after shaking every hand he passed—he made it over to her.

“You look raring to go this morning,” she said. “You excited about the first day?”

“Always— Hey, sir, good morning to you.” He shook a student’s hand, then looked back at Stephanie. “Love the energy and the newness.” Another good morning and handshake. “How about you? You ready?”

“I am,” she said, “believe it or not.”

“Let’s go to the office and get your teacher packet, then I’ll take you to study hall.”

She followed him. “I still think this assignment is hilarious.” She’d gotten the news on Friday. “You totally knew I didn’t need to be engaged in any content subjects.”

“Don’t get excited,” he said. “If a need arises, you could be in calculus tomorrow.”

Marcus walked to the first office desk, where a black woman with short pepper-and-gray hair was typing on the computer.

“Stephanie, this is Mrs. Walters, the head office administrator. If you have a question about anything, and I mean
anything
, go to her, not me. I don’t know half of what she knows about this place.” He gestured the other way. “And Mrs. Walters, this is Stephanie London.”

The phone rang before the woman could speak. She scooped it up.

“Hope Springs High, please hold.” Mrs. Walters’s eyes were kind. “Very nice to meet you, Mrs. London. I’ve got your packet of materials right here. Mr. Maxwell is right, I’ll be glad to help if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Walters.”

She returned to the call as Marcus led Stephanie back out. The building was more crowded now as bodies filled the halls, lockers slamming all around. Marcus didn’t shake as many hands, moving more quickly now because of time. He led Stephanie down a long hall, the opposite way of the gym.

“Does every student take study hall?” she asked.

“No. Our freshmen’s schedules are filled with classes only— Good morning, Miss Hunt.” They rounded a corner. “Our upperclassmen have the option to take study hall, where they can do homework, projects, study for tests, that kind of thing— Hey, it’s a little early for foolishness, don’t you think?”

Some boys had surrounded another boy, play-punching him. They broke it up.

Marcus stepped into the cafeteria. A handful of students were there, talking at a table.

“Welcome to study hall,” he said.

Stephanie looked curiously at him. “I thought it was in a classroom.”

“We’re hoping one day to have a classroom big enough to dedicate to it,” he said. “A computer lab would be even better. But this is only our second year doing this, and for now, this is where it happens.”

Stephanie lifted her packet. “And this tells me everything I need to know?”

“It has your schedule, student rosters, study hall protocol, fun stuff like emergency evacuation procedures . . . But everything?” He smiled. “No. You’ll learn a lot as you go.”

Those same boys entered the cafeteria, loudly, and commandeered a table, no books in sight.

Stephanie eyed Marcus. “Yeah, like how to babysit teenagers.”

Seemed like a steady stream of them were coming in now. She wondered how many were in this first period.